DAILY MONSTER 55

Good morning! I hope the week is going well for you so far. It's certainly going well for the monsters. You've got to read the stories everybody posted for yesterday's creatures. Brilliant, brilliant stuff. Nice work, guys! Really, really fun:

Monster 55 is a weird one. I understand, of course, that all these monsters are a little bit weird almost by definition, but this one's weirder than most. It came out a little differently. It's a wild-eyed creature. Wild-eyed, but also strangely zoned out. Somehow I doubt that 57 holds down a job. Or lives a life within normal boundaries. What do you think? Is it of this Earth? Is it dangerous to you and me? How does it survive? How does it gather food? Are all of its kind just as strange as this one? Or is 55 simply a bad seed? Please take a minute and help us figure this one out:

Thank you for coming to visit the monsters!
Have a mellow day and be sure of one thing: 344 LOVES YOU

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Dateline: Thursday, January 11th, 2007. Sesame Place. Streetlights flicker ominously at twilight here. In the daylight, children frolic happily on the streets here, and the occassional furry monster is seen, grumpy but oddly accomodating, emerging from a garbage can. But what happens when night falls? Where do the children go? Is Elmo’s high-pitched voice really a genetic trait, or is it the result of vocal cords much strained by helium abuse? Is Oscar really that much of a grouch, or is he instead the victim of schizophrenia brought on by severe agoraphobia? And finally, is our gentle giant Snuffleupagus really truly so heavy-lidded because of his long eyelashes, or is his slow speech and lasting sopor instead a mark of long nights fueled only by caffeine and guarana-berry extract? Join us tonight on Fox, as we explore Sesame Steet: When the Sunny Day Goes Away.

hi!
although i never comment on your monsters, i watch them everyday, and they always make me smile, and admire your talent.
congratulations for this great idea and for pulling it off so neatly, maybe someday i’ll come up with a story for one of them.
bye

Did you sneeze on the time lapse?
Anyway.
I got nothin today. I had a whole story started, and then code started calling.
I like this one a lot – I like that his form is just so different from the others. I think that is cool.

Cinquentacinco the chupacabra is driving hell bent for the border to join her cousins Cheech, Chong and Chin for some southern hospitality. You think she looks a little harried now? Wah! Chin decided that Queensland was a little too tame; Cheech and Chong have secured a bungalow on the beach for the reunion. Cinquentacinco quit her day job as an exterminator and has flung caution to the wind. Again. See you all at the party!

Haha, great work guys! I’ve decided not to read the stories until after I have seen what surfaces in my mind, but I have to comment on the Sesame Street version – brilliant. Love it! Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings!

He is the nasopharyngeal plinth of the class. He drifts from desk to desk, sniffing out his seat, earning sneers and blatant denunciations from the classmates. They stack upon him their quandaries and refer to him only with disdain. He is the holder of all classes. This doesn’t bother him.
He breathes the higher air, and holds more of it. He is an air camel, engaged to life. He is breathing and living and he is the plinth of the class. He holds their shortcomings for them and the students know this but don’t acknowledge it. They are chalk dust. They are floating debris and he breathes them and holds them. He is a mother, cradling until maturation.
He hugs the weight of the world in his snout. He cannot catch cold. He protects himself from sneezing. The students know this but don’t acknowledge it. He holds the dust but is careful. He is waiting until he cannot wait. He is the nasopharyngeal plinth of the class and he is the winter and the air and the pedestal of disdain. This doesn’t bother him. He accepts his duties. He is the weight and the dust and the mother. He is the truth and the light and the holder of all classes. He is the reduction of the students and the keeper of secrets; he is the silly monster with the serious job. He must hold a cold and prevent a sneeze.
He must tissue the tears of the students
and protect them from
themselves.

And so, today 55 seems to be taking the shape of an elephant. He’s not dangerous to us, but the asteroid he’s riding on is! Monster 55 is the lone resident of asteroid Apophis, the one doomed to strike Earth on Friday April 13, 2036*. With his long snout, he’ll drive it straight into the ocean, causing a gigantic tsunami that will wash over all of the North American continent! WMWAAHAAAAA!!! Hahaha… Once he gets onto Earth, he’ll make a house in the water and go swimming in the global ocean. Fun for him, not for us.
*the asteroid, which will come extremely close to earth in 2029, must pass through a “resonance keyhole” – a 400-meter-wide area of space – for Earth’s gravitational pull to be able to throw off the asteroid’s orbit just enough for it to come back around to strike Earth during its next orbit. The chances of this happening are currently at about 1 in 45,000. There is also the chance of a strike in 2037, but the chances of this happening are 1 in 12.3 million.

Today we investigate the little-known, rarely seen ElephaTank Monster, or the Elephasis Tankiuppius, so named for its resemblance to elephants and armored tanks. This monster was discovered by noted monsterologist Wilberforce Snodgrass, who first tracked its activities where it lives in the swamps of Peru. This compact animal, which strangely prefers heeled shoes to bare feet, kicks its little feet to propel itself along just under the surface of the swamp, while using its elephant-like proboscis to sniff out prey.
Its favorite food is, of course, the Peanut Mosquito (Peanuttius Delicious). ElephaTank inhales sharply to trap the mosquito against its nostrils, then delivers the mosquito to its mouth. ElephaTank finds the Peanut Mosquito deliciously crunchy, and grins during digestion.

Far be it for me to know what the next big handbag style is going to be. I’m just the designer, not the trend forecast professional. Last year, to everyone’s surprise, was the year of the Woolly-bag. Equipped with faux mammoth trunk handles the bag was cumbersome and hard to hold. A large cartoonish eye served as the clasp, and rubberized stiletto heel scuff busters lined the bottoms of the atrocious carryalls. First created as an accessory to the now tired UGG® footwear line, the Woolly-bag didn’t catch on in US markets until Paris Hilton was seen carrying one to a dinner party. Of course, all fifteen-year-old Paris wannabes just had to have one. The market was flooded with orders, and soon they were everywhere. Ebay was brimming over with cheap knockoffs. And just as soon as it took off, the pesky pocketbook went kaputt. It’s amazing what people will buy, just to look hip.

Arthur and Paul looked at the device long and hard. This thing Paul created got them into this mess, and Arthur was the only one that seemed to know how to use it correctly. The last time Paul turned it on, it started to create a black hole. It was Arthur that altered the programming to convert the swirling vortex of doom into a worm hole (which was Paul’s original intent). Cid’s younger brother siphoned much of the money – from one of the largest criminal syndicates in the country – to fund the project; unbeknownst to either Paul or Arthur. Ultimately, it was to be the brothers’ contribution to the Contained Orbital Residence Enterprise (C.O.R.E.). As the C.O.R.E. was several light years from their planet, supplying materials and resources to the project was becoming increasingly more difficult. A worm hole would lessen that burden. Arthur had a knack for bending time, having the ability to alter space seemed to be a natural progression.
“Ok… the last time we turned this thing on, we almost destroyed the world. No biggie. That bug is all worked out now,” smirked Paul. Arthur was bent down filling a dish with some kind of grub and wheat regalement. “Ya. Bug. That’s what it was.” He shook his head and then gave a sharp whistle, “Snout!” A rumbling like a freight train was heard some distance off. Some crashing. Heavy foot traffic was headed toward Arthur, but he was clearly unconcerned. Around the corner appeared, in a spectacular slide, Snout. His long trunk of a nose flapping behind him as his hoofs sought purchase on the slick floor. Using the wall to correct his trajectory, Snout was well on his way to his dinner. “That thing is more a danger to us than this worm hole device, Arthur,” chuckled Paul. Arthur couldn’t help but let out a little laugh, “I know. But, man, he sure is amusing.” Arthur proceeded to stand next to Paul to review the monitor on the machine while Snout was woofing down his wriggly, but nutritious meal.
“Alright, the plan is simple. Get in, get Saul, do whatever damage we can, get out. This thing only has about a 1 minute window. We punch in the secondary coordinates and start the count-down. Snout will be passed out by the time we get back, so no fight from him when we push him in.” Arthur’s finger hovered over a small, square button. Paul looked up at Arthur, “What about pop?” Arthur’s finger folded in for a second, held it’s closed position and then extended once more. “He knows the situation. He’s probably already so ‘lost’ to the populace no one will find him. He wouldn’t have let me have his gun otherwise.” Push. The device hummed to life and the space about 10 feet behind it seemed to warp in and out. About 5 seconds later, a tube elongated from the center and the brothers stepped up to the edge of the newly formed hole in space. Arthur looked back and looked at Snout as he scrapped the bowl for crumbs that weren’t there.
“We’ll be right back, boy.”